Suffer the Children
by Meg Kenobi
Summary: A younger Snape learns some important lessons -- including one in humility -- while caring for the daughter of Antonin Dolohov. *Spoiler Free*
1. Default Chapter

Title: Suffer the Children  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Author: Meg Kenobi (afirmation@aol.com)  
  
Characters: Dolohov, His daughter, Voldy, Snape  
  
Summary: Snape learns some important lessons while caring for the daughter of Antonin Dolohov.  
  
Disclaimer: Were I J.K. Rowling, which I am not, I would own these trademarks. And yet, I do not. So basically, I am not making a profit so don't sue me. I might cry. Or kill Snape.  
  
Author's note: Two big things. This story will be funny, I promise, but angsty, too. It seems off to a dark start but the backstory had to be told. Hang in there; it gets better. Oh, the other thing: I know Antonin Doholov sounds Russian, but it could be Croatian! It could! I will update this shortly.  
  
Antonin Dolohov growled in distaste as he strode past the other Death Eaters. The Mark could not have started to burn at a more inopportune time. He knew his faultless potions and years of service had earned him a solid rank in Voldemort's numbers, but nothing gave him the right to ask what he was about to. It was times like these he wished he had never returned home to Croatia. Times that made him wish he had never meet Letego Dubrovic. He certainly was beginning to think it was foolish of him to bring her back to London. A sordid triangle had formed shortly after their marriage, Dolohov acting as Letego's keeper and Letego acting as Voldemort's whore. Dolohov's blind-eye to his wife's infidelity had been perceived as loyalty by Voldemort and had been rewarded with trust. In his darkest thoughts, Antonin knew it was that trust he craved more than his wife's love.  
  
Through the flickering torchlight that illuminated the Dark Lord's private chambers, Antonin could see the sparkling guild of his Master's throne. There was no doubt in his mind that his Master had called him here on specific business; his Lord did not whisk him away for ceremony or normal meetings. Voldemort knew very well that it was difficult for Antonin to keep alive his respectable front in his potions store and look after Letego at the same time. While he was by no means an understanding or sympathetic creature, Voldemort need for Letego's body and Antonin's services forced him to indulge his loyal servant. With a sick dread, Antonin knew he would have to try to refuse whatever duty was to be assigned. He knelt low and kissed his Master's robes. Before he could even lift his eyes, Voldemort's voice sliced through him.  
  
"I call you here on duty, and after all I've done and you come with dissent in your heart? Speak it now," hissed a chilling serpent-like voice.  
  
"My Lord, my Liege, I would never deny you. It is only that Letego is. . . ill and must return to her doctor at home for a time." Dolohov did not dare to raise his eyes as he began his explanation.  
  
"Your point?" Voldemort snapped. "Her father has taken care of her on her past returns. You are lying to me," the dark wizard's voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. He lifted his wand and hissed, "Crucio."  
  
At once, Dolohov's head exploded with white hot pain. It surged through veins and crawled under his skin like fire. The agony splintered through his bones and clenched in his bowels. It felt as though every cell in his body was being ripped apart while his thoughts were bared and raped. Suddenly, as it always did, the pain abated and his mind cleared. His breath came ragged and agonized as he sensed his Lord's eyes bearing down on him in pure anger.  
  
"Explain yourself, Dolohov. What are you hiding from me?"  
  
"Master, it's only. . . the girl, our daughter, Strava. She frightens strangers so and she's alone enough with the way her mother is. I only wanted to be with her until her mother is better." Antonin choked out the words, hoping they proved a better explanation.  
  
"That is all? Very well then, consider it done. There is a family of Muggles, quite on my nerves. I need you to come up with something particularly gruesome. . ." Voldemort continued as though their conversation hadn't been preceded by a torture session.  
  
"So Strava. . .?"  
  
"Will not be a concern while you are focusing on the maters at hand," Voldemort said darkly. "I think Severus should be quite the adequate sitter."   
  
*Thanks for playing in my head. Please review!* 


	2. Introductions

Author's note: Look! I wrote another chapter! I did it all by myself! Whoo-hoo! Tell me what y'all think!  
  
Suffer the Children  
  
Chapter II--Introductions   
  
Severus Snape stared in shock at Voldemort. "My Lord," he whispered, "I don't know the first thing about taking care of children." He knew he was not his master's favorite servant, but this task seemed a ridiculous waste of his talents.  
  
"You're the youngest of my Death Eaters and therefor the most capable. Regardless, I should not have to justify my reasons," Voldemort simply replied as Snape looked at him aghast.  
  
"Master, I have killed children. No, literally. On your command! I don't think the girl is safe with me. I overfed my Sea Monkeys. I drowned a cactus!" Severus implored, but his lord only laughed in a dark and unsettling way.  
  
"You will go to Dolohov's home tomorrow and you will take exemplary care of their pureblood child. You will do this, Severus, or you will endure the Cruciatus until your brains explode."  
  
***************  
  
Snape had heard a good deal about the Dolohov's, but there again, so had the rest of the wizarding world. Dolohov had used his pureblood marriage and child as a symbol for the Death Eater movement. The wealthy Antonin lived in the public eye, his London popularity playing soapbox to his campaign against muggles and Mudbloods. Stories of his ridiculous wealth spread and coupled with the man's undeniable charm, people were slowly being swayed by his reasoning. Regardless of what the others might speculate, Snape knew that was why Voldemort kept Antonin close. Dolohov was a public magnet and one of the few successfully gaining support for the cause.  
  
Everything taken into account, Severus was honestly not surprised to arrive at the heavy iron gates of a sprawling, opulent estate. He opened the gate and headed towards the house's back door as Dolohov's owl had instructed him to do. He was greeted there by a trembling house elf.  
  
"Wot regrets to inform you that Master is not at home," the creature crooned, wringing his hands woefully. "He left early. Very angry about having to do so. He was sorry he couldn't be here to welcome you himself. But the girl is upstairs; third door to the right. Master said you'd be coming to see to her. Wot will be in the kitchen if you need anything." With that, the strange little elf disappeared, leaving Severus alone in the Dolohov's sumptuous parlor. He removed his traveling cloak and hung it from a hook, taking in his surroundings. He strode aimlessly out of the parlor and found himself at the foot of a grand staircase. Sighing with resignation, Snape realized he ought to go see what his baby-sitting charge was up to.  
  
From inside, the mansion seemed even larger, its halls stretching on eternally. Snape rapped lightly on the girl's door before entering. Strava was sitting cross-legged on the floor, her dark eyes focusing intently. Her looks were not surprising--skin pale like china glowing under a tumble of raven hair. She was a neat mix of her parents features and apparently their interests as well. The little girl bent studiously over a miniature cauldron and a mess of test tubes, flasks and beakers with which she seemed to be brewing an imaginary potion.  
  
"What are you making?" Severus questioned, somewhat bemused. Strava didn't even bother to acknowledge his presence as she answered.  
  
"Making an antidote. Dolly is dying. Poisoned." The girl's voice was chilling and matter of fact. Severus stared at the strange girl, taken aback. Sure enough, her doll was lying sprawled on its back. The toy looked strangely pale and sickly.   
  
"Well, right then," Snape muttered, thrown by the girl's behavior. "Well, you . . . you do what you have to do to save her. I'll just sit here and you tell me--or better yet, that house elf--if you need anything." Snape watched as Strava worked dutifully on her imaginary antidote. Perhaps this task wasn't impossible. Menial, he brooded, unworthy of his talents, but not impossible. Thinking darkly of his deflated potential, Severus drifted off to sleep in his chair.  
  
He was dreaming of his father, some distant faded memory biting at his mind with fresh agony. He was snapped from reverie by a harsh sigh from a small figure at his feet.  
  
"Everything all right?" he yawned to the girl. She shook her head emphatically.  
  
"Dolly died," the girl said casually. She produced a cosmetics palette from a bin of playthings. "I am going to do her make-up so she'll be pretty-ful at the funeral. Then I'll do yours so you'll be pretty-ful for the wake." Severus launched himself at the floor.  
  
"She's not dead! She's only nearly dead," he cried, suddenly quite eager to 'save' the doll.  
  
"Almost dead?" Strava questioned skeptically. "There's a difference?"  
  
"Yes! Yes!," Severus fumbled realistically with the child's potion set. "What we really need is a bezoar. . ." 


End file.
